Bryony Bell's Star Turn (7 page)

Angelina gave a little gasp, but Big Bob's face was a picture of calm. ‘Right you are, lass,' he said happily.

‘You're flying all the way to the States,' Bryony continued, ‘cruising at an altitude of 20,000 feet. But are you nervous?'

Big Bob, totally transfixed by Bryony's bead, continued to move his head from side to side. ‘Not remotely,' he said at last.

‘Are your palms clammy?'

‘Not a bit of it,' Big Bob replied promptly. ‘In fact,' he added, ‘I'm rather enjoying it…'

‘So you're not frightened?' Bryony asked, beginning to reduce the bead's momentum.

The sideways movements of Big Bob's head slowed too and finally came to rest. After a short consideration, he laughed. ‘Frightened of flying?' he said. ‘
Moi
?'

‘I am going to count to three and snap my fingers,' Bryony went on, staring hard into Big Bob's eyes, ‘and when I do you will be wide awake; and you will never be afraid of flying again. One … two … three!'

At the final number, Big Bob leapt out of his seat. Then he grabbed the rhinestone-studded Stetson from the stuffed bear's head, put it on, slapped his thigh and yelled, ‘Yee-hah!' just as the door opened and a very bemused Clarissa led the
Broadway Belles
in and began to remove her cloak.

‘Clarissa, my angel,' Big Bob said ecstatically, sweeping her up, snow and all, and dancing round the kitchen with her in his arms. ‘Come fly with me!'

Bryony lay in bed that night, going over everything that had happened. Her Viper 3000s hung in their usual place over the wardrobe doorknob, and as she pictured the white, feathery skating dress inside and imagined how even more wonderful it was going to look when Abid's mum had unpicked the silver star and embroidered on a gold-sequined shooting one, she felt ripples of excitement zing up and down her back. This was going to be the very best Christmas ever!

She looked at the Vipers again. There was, she thought, just one little problem. Compared to all the other problems she'd had lately, it was fairly minor. But still – it
was
a problem.

Her train of thought was broken by a soft knock at the door. Angelina tiptoed in and perched on the bed.

‘Can't sleep either?' Bryony grinned.

‘Written the second verse of the Big Number,' Angelina answered, pushing a piece
of paper under her nose.

Excitedly, Bryony read. ‘Wow, Angelina!' she said. ‘This is just great. We'll have it written in no time!' She looked admiringly at her sister. ‘Maybe you could sing it?'

‘And maybe you could let me see how you'd skate it?' Angelina answered.

But Bryony did not move. Instead, she traced her finger solemnly round the pink flowers on her duvet cover. ‘I'd love to,' she said. ‘It's just…' She swung her legs off the bed, went over to the wardrobe, and unhooked the Vipers. Then she sat back down and stroked their white composite uppers. ‘It's these,' she said at last. ‘They nip.'

‘But you'll be able to do the play in them?' Angelina asked anxiously. ‘Won't you?'

Bryony shrugged. ‘Sure,' she said. ‘As long as I don't wear socks. But they're not going to last much longer, Angelina. And it seems like it was only yesterday that I got them.'

‘You need new rollerskates, Bryony,' Angelina said gently.

Bryony nodded. ‘Reckon Mum and Dad'll get me them for Christmas?'

‘Sure to,'Angelina smiled. ‘After all, you got us the big contract, didn't you!'

Bryony stroked her skates again. ‘I'll ask for another pair of Vipers,' she said, cheering up. ‘Can't get skates better than Vipers, that's for sure!'

She pulled them on with difficulty and struck a pose by the dressing table. ‘Make way for the angel's entrance!' she announced. Then she did a magnificent leap right across the bedroom, landed as softly as stardust, bowed her head and said in an uncannily awe-inspiring voice, ‘Behold, I bring you great good news!'

Angelina could hardly contain herself. ‘It's wonderful, Bryony!' she said. ‘Looks just like you're flying.'

Bryony curtsied, winced slightly, and eased the Vipers off. Angelina surveyed Bryony's red and blistered feet. Then, very thoughtfully, she said goodnight and tiptoed off to her own bedroom…

Next morning Bryony woke earlier than usual. The house was so silent it felt as though a thick layer of snow was muffling every single sound, and for a while she lay in her cosy warm bundle of bedclothes, waiting happily for the day to begin.

Usually Bryony was the first Bell to get up, so when she heard a little sound from the landing she thought she must have been imagining things. Then it came again – a tiny creak, like someone trying to walk without making a noise. And then a rustle. A
distinct
rustle…

Bryony eased herself quietly out of bed and tiptoed over to the door. Making sure she didn't squeak, she opened it a crack and peeped out just in time to see Angelina's holly-patterned fleecy pyjamas disappearing in the direction of the staircase.

Odd, Bryony thought, Angelina usually stayed in her bed till the last possible moment… Bryony slipped out of her room and followed the pyjamas to the head of the stairs.

‘Angelina!' she called out in as loud a whisper as she dared. But Angelina didn't answer. Instead she scurried on down, and as she rounded the bend at the bottom Bryony clearly saw her stuff a very large roll of paper down her front.

Intrigued, Bryony walked back to her bedroom. There was something very suspicious about Angelina's behaviour, and normally Bryony would have charged after her and demanded to know what was going on. But right now things between them were at an all-time high. It would be a shame to risk spoiling their new-found friendship.

Still deep in thought, Bryony dressed and went downstairs. Cautiously, she opened the kitchen door and immediately Angelina, who had been looking out of the kitchen window, wheeled round and blushed crimson.

‘Good morning, Angelina,' Bryony said politely, trying her best not to look at Angelina's trouser leg from which a roll of paper was protruding. ‘Nice to see you following the old
Duty Rota again.'

‘Ah … yes,' Angelina stammered, grabbing a couple of mugs and a milk jug with one hand and flinging them with some difficulty onto the kitchen table. ‘The Duty Rota … of course…'

Bryony lunged forward and caught the milk jug as it rolled across the table. ‘Everything OK?' she said.

‘A-1 OK,' Angelina replied promptly, walking very stiffly past Bryony and into the living room. ‘Just looking out for Trish,' she added, pulling back the curtain and breathing on the frost patterns. ‘Can't wait for filming to start…'

Determined not to show her suspicions, Bryony went on setting the table. A few bumps and coughs from above indicated that the rest of the family was beginning to stir. Then the doorbell rang, but when Bryony rushed out to open it, her way was barred by Angelina.

‘That'll be Trish and the camera crew. I'll get it, Bryony!' she insisted. And when Bryony still hovered in the hall, she added, ‘Why don't you go and round the little 'uns up? We don't want to be late starting now, do we?'

Reluctantly, Bryony did as she was told. But instead of climbing the stairs she crouched down
behind the banister and listened. Quite distinctly, she heard Angelina hiss, ‘Quick, Trish – while Bryony's out of the way!' Then the living room door was closed and there was silence.

Bryony climbed the stairs slowly, and by the time she reached the landing, the Breakfast with the Bells theme music had begun. No sooner had the first bars rung out than every bedroom door opened and a blur of Bells shot past her, heading excitedly for their second morning of TV stardom.

Bryony sighed and went into her bedroom. What was Angelina up to
now
? she wondered, as she sat at her dressing table and fastened her hair into two bright bunches with a pair of mistletoe hair ties. She was behaving very oddly…

‘You nearly ready, Bryony love?'

Bryony jumped as she caught sight of Big Bob's reflection. ‘Sure, Dad,' she said, unhooking her Vipers and swinging them round her shoulders. ‘Mustn't miss our cue – come on!'

She led the way out but, to her surprise, Big Bob seemed in no hurry to be on set. In fact, he positively
ambled
along the landing and when he got to the top of the stairs he sat down and
motioned to Bryony to sit beside him.

‘Got any thoughts about what you'd like Santa to bring you this Christmas, lass?' he said conversationally, and as he did he nudged Bryony's shoulder so that the toe-stops of her Vipers dug in hard. ‘'Cause you know how sometimes Santa's little elves need a bit of advance warning, if you get my drift?' he added, with a broad wink.

The theme music had stopped now. Bryony bit her lip. It was the ideal opportunity to ask for new Vipers, but somehow it didn't feel right. ‘I really think we ought to get to the kitchen, Dad,' she said worriedly. ‘What's Trish going to think if there are two Bells missing?'

But Big Bob waved his hand dismissively. ‘Don't always have to do everything bang on cue,' he said. ‘After all, we're supposed to act natural, aren't we?' And he settled down comfortably on the stair as though time was no object.

‘Oh, well,' said Bryony, relaxing too, ‘if you're sure it's OK, then there
is
something I might like Santa's little elves to think about…'

Later that week, Bryony settled beside Abid in
the wings to await the arrival of the Virgin Mary on stage and, as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she couldn't believe what she saw. Instead of his brown dressing gown and Irish-linen tea towel, Abid now sported a shiny, grey salwar kameez with gold trim.

‘Wow…' she whistled. ‘Looks like Shabana Ashraf, Designer to the Stars, has been on your case!'

Abid nodded rather glumly. ‘Couldn't keep her away once she knew it was going to be televised,' he said. ‘Her pinking shears haven't stopped snipping!' He smoothed down the kameez, which sprang stiffly up again. ‘Personally, I was happier in the dressing gown. Somehow this doesn't look like a garment that's been across a desert…'

Then he nodded in the direction of the opposite wings. ‘Wait till you see the Virgin Mary,' he muttered, as a vision of pale-blue iridescent loveliness shimmered back and forth in the gloom. ‘Mum says it's “demure, with a hint of glamour”,' he added. ‘Personally, I think it's too glitzy by half, but Mrs Quigg loves it, so there you are.

‘Mind you,' he added, ‘she's loving
everything
these days!'

Bryony stood up, smoothed down her skating dress, and prepared for her entrance. The Virgin Mary, however, was still at the side of the stage fiddling with her white satin headdress and looked nowhere near being ready for the visitation.

As Mrs Quigg played a more than usually jaunty version of her angel-wings music, Bryony
moved close to Abid. ‘Angelina's up to something,' she whispered. ‘Did you notice me and Dad made a late entrance this morning?'

Abid nodded. ‘Thought you were never coming,' he said.

Bryony looked at him warily. Why was he refusing to meet her eye?

‘So,' she went on as coolly as she could, ‘what did they talk about when we weren't there?'

Abid pulled at a thread in his kameez. ‘Just chat,' he said quickly. ‘Absolutely nothing.'

A couple of extra-loud tinkles from the piano announced the long-awaited arrival of the Virgin Mary in all her glory, and as Angelina delivered her lines flawlessly and with immaculate expression, Bryony pulled Abid closer. ‘Not hiding anything from me, are you, Abid?' she said, looking deep into his brown eyes.

‘Me?' Abid replied indignantly. ‘Would I do a thing like that, Bryony?'

Feeling somewhat comforted, Bryony pushed off and glided into the starlight. Then she flapped her wings and rose into the air. But as she landed in a perfect arabesque at the Virgin Mary's feet it occurred to her that Abid had not actually answered her question…